Silhouette
by TeresianLion
Summary: this is another several chapter story, but i only have the first chapter finished. the second one is almost done. this story is about feliciana when she gets beaten since she was little and she becomes a stripper, but then ludwig comes into her life...


I'm horrible. I'm short and ugly. I'm stupid. I'm terrible. All I'm good for is sex and beatings.

That's what I've been told ever since I was little. They all told me that I was no good, that I could never amount to anything and that I was stupid for thinking that I could. I was their mistake they couldn't get rid of. They never loved me. What exactly /is/ love? A feeling? A thing? A price? I don't know. I thought that it was another word or sex, but whenever I told people that, they would just shake their heads sadly. So I'm not so sure anymore.

I grew up in, what I thought, was a pretty normal family. The youngest, which is me, is beat for misbehaving and has to do everything around the house including taking care of everyone, acting accordingly to everybody's whim. My dad would make me prepare all the meals, and so I did. I was beat if I didn't. My mom would make me do all the laundry an cleaning, and so I did. I was beat if I didn't. My older brother would ask me to pose naked, and so I did. I was beat if I didn't.

This lasted until I was thirteen years old, and then it was straight to the streets. I was a teenager now, and I had to fend for myself. That's what Mom and Dad told me. This seemed pretty normal for me. Since I didn't go to school or watch television or have any friends, I had nothing to compare this life too. I must admit, it was a little weird for me though. I seemed to be the only teenager out there, living in the park. People would always give me strange looks, and I expected them to beat me for being somewhere they obviously didn't approve of. If I don't behave, I get beaten. That's how this world works.

When I was fourteen I met a man who owned a strip club. Above it was an apartment that he owned, it was where he lived. This man was very...what's the word...nice to me. He fed me and gave me clothes and allowed me to live with him. Yes, the meals he served me were only bread slices and the clothes he gave me were revealing and he would watch me change, but he didn't beat me as often as my parents did. I was still beat when I didn't behave, but he wouldn't beat me that often. He would sometimes...um...have sex with me. He taught me what sex was and would have sex with me whenever he didn't beat me. Usually, he would do both. He told me that sex was the only way to get anywhere in this world, and I believed him.

By the time I was eighteen, I still had no friends nor had ever gone to school. The only schooling I had was from the television. The man, whom was named Joe, only let me watch the educational channels and the channels with sex on them. He wanted me to become educated in smarts and in sex. On my eighteenth birthday, he gave me a job at his strip club. There was no money involved, of course, but he told me that I would be paid with self esteem. He told me that going out there and stripping and pole dancing would make me feel so much better about myself. And guess what, it does! Having men cheer for me and throw me money that I can give to Daddy Joe - that's what he told me to call him since in his mind he practically raised me - it just felt amazing. I've never felt anything like this before, I feel so...happy and proud of myself! I was bringing happiness to Daddy Joe.

It's currently June 6th, 4:36pm, and I'm still eighteen years old. This is where the real story begins.

I was pole dancing, like usual, and saw a man with slick blonde hair and tired blue eyes walk in. He was wearing a nice suit. I don't know why, but I felt...weird. I wanted to watch this man, see what he did. I wanted to know everything about him, what his favorite food is, if he has any family, if he's the youngest in his family, how many times he's been beaten, and things like that. So I watched and danced as the man walked over to the bar and ordered a beer. He took a seat in a bar stool and started watching me. Me! I blushed as blew some of my curly, light brown hair out of my caramel eyes.

He continued to watch me, like five other men, but he was watching me with a different look in his eyes. And not the tired look. It looked...well I don't really know what he was looking at me with. I've never seen someone wear that face before. But yet, this face that I knew nothing about, was dragging me towards him. I locked eye contact and was blushing even more. I continued dancing, even though I couldn't think straight. Men below were throwing money at me and issuing cat calls. All the while I couldn't stop thinking of that man...

A brown haired man below me called out something other than 'hey sexy bitch!' and requested a lap dance. So I gave him one. I give him the best lap dance of his life. Honestly, it was probably the best one I've ever given. I really wanted to impress that blonde man, I wanted him to like me and beat me four times a month, once each week. According to Daddy Joe, that's how you show someone you care for them: a beating only once a week. He also told me that sex was the only way to get someone to care about you, so I was really trying to impress that man with how well I was giving this brown haired man a lap dance. I really want that blonde man to request one. I gave this brown haired guy such a good lap dance that he had such a boner when I was finished! That's what you can do with years of practice under your belt, literally!

I continued dancing after the lap dance and, surprisingly, the blonde man didn't come over. He only kept watching me from the bar with that look on his face. It was half sadness, like when I tell people that love is just sex, and half of something that I've never seen before.

After the last customer - save the blonde man at the bar - had left, Daddy Joe walked out and told me that I could stop. I stopped dancing and gathered up all the money around me, bending over a lot and taking my time to stand back up. I knew that it made Daddy Joe happy. He only beat me once a week, so I knew he cared.

I gave him all of the money that I had collected and gave it to him with a smile.

"Here you go, Daddy Joe!" I said with my high pitched, heavily Italian accented voice.

"Thanks sweetheart," he responded back to me. He was smoking a cigar in his mouth and was counting up the money. "Go get yourself a drink then come on upstairs."

"Okay!" I walked over to the bar and sat down, I was two seats away from the blonde man.

Miles, the bartender, smiled at me. "Great show today! You want the usual?"

I smiled back. "Yup! And thanks Miles."

He poured me my drink and continued talking. "It's amazing how you can stay so cheery all the time."

My smile faded some. "W-what do you mean?"

"Never mind." Miles handed me my drink. "Drink up!" He grabbed his coat and started walking towards the door.

"See ya!" I called after him and he waved in response before walking away and out of sight. I took a deep breath and then sipped at my drink.

"What's your name?" Came a thickly accented German voice.

I turned and looked at the blonde man, who was looking at me with that same face, but with such intensity it made me hesitate to answer. But I had to, or I would be beat.

"Uh...Feliciana."

He tilted his head up and shut his eyes. "Feliciana..." He whispered, seeming to love the way it rolled off of my tongue and how it fit me perfectly. After about a minute, he looked back to me. "Aren't you going to ask my name?"

I cringed and put my arm over my face, waiting for him to beat me. I didn't ask him his name! I was waiting I feel his open palm or clenched fist come down on my arm, but instead I only felt his cool hand lay gently on my head.

I flinched and he asked me in a soothing voice, "What's wrong?"

I didn't move my arms away. "A-aren't you going to...?"

He had a confused look on his face. "Am I going to what?"

I immediately lowered my arms, wanting to change the subject and to not get beat. Not right here, in a public place. Anywhere else I deserved to be beaten. "Uh, w-what's your name?" I asked.

He blinked, unsure of what had just happened. But he answered me anyways. "Ludwig Beilshmidt."

I giggled. "That's a long name!"

"It is?"

"Yup! Ludwigbeilshmidt is long. Is it German? 'Cause you sound like you're German."

He smiled some and looked down. "No, my name isn't Ludwigbeilshmidt. It two different words, my first and last name."

I cocked my head. "You're...last name?" I whispered.

"Yeah. I'm sure that Miles guy and your dad have them. You too, the same as your dad's."

I thought for a moment. Miles never told me his last name, and I can't remember Joe's. I do remember his name being longer, but he told me to only call him 'Daddy Joe', so that's all I remember. I can't recall my own last name. They never told me. I've been known as Feliciana for as long as I can remember. I shook my head. "No sir, I don't have one. Or at least, I can't remember it. Miles never told me his last name. And...how do you know my dad?"

"Well isn't that him? The man you just gave the money too?"

I shook my head. "No, he's not my father. I haven't seen my dad since I was thirteen. This is just the man who takes care of me. He told me to call him 'Daddy Joe'."

Ludwig wore a disgusted look on his face. "That's sick! So many things wrong with that. Tell me, what's been going on here? Why haven't you seen your parents since you were thirteen? What has Joe done to you?" He asked this and spoke of Joe with a tone as though he were a disease, an incurable cancer.

I blinked at him and frowned. "How dare you speak about Daddy Joe that way! He only beats me once a week and we have sex a lot, so you shut your mouth! He is very caring and sometimes will mix my beatings in with sex! And I haven't seen my parents because I was a teenager, so they sent me away to fend for myself, no durh, dumb ass! Everyone does that! Although I must say, they beat me more than once a week, so I guess that they don't care for me as much as Daddy Joe...but still! My older brother would stare at me naked, and that counts as sex in my book, so I know that he cares for me at least! So you shut up, I had a great childhood!"

Ludwig stared at me, horrified, and I felt fear suddenly fill my face. I cringed and put my arms up like last time. "Ah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me. I'm sorry for yelling."

I peeked out from behind my arms when I didn't feel a hand or a fist, and I saw Ludwig's unmoved, horrified face. He looked at me very sadly as though he was about to cry. But why? Did I make him sad? Was I too harsh? "I'm sorry!" I repeated. I didn't want to be beaten in a public place! PDA, people! Also, I can get quite loud when I'm being beat.

I felt Ludwig grab my arm tightly and I flinched. "We're getting out of here." He dragged me off the bar stool and out of the strip club. It was dark outside and there was no one out at this time of night except for Ludwig and I.

"Wait! W-what're you-? Ah! Help! Help!" I was freaking out. Who did Ludwig think he was?! Taking me away from Daddy Joe...

Ludwig placed his coat over me so that I wouldn't get cold and then he covered my mouth with his hand. "I'm taking you to a wonderful place and am going to show you what a real childhood is like."

He removed his hand and I began yelling 'no!', and so he covered my mouth again. He also squeezed my nose. I tried hard to pry his hand away from me, but he didn't even budge. My lungs screamed for air, they were starting to burn. I pushed and shoved with all my might, but he didn't move. I looked him in the eye with fear and saw only a determined pair of blue eyes as bright as the morning sky staring back at me. That was the last thing I remember seeing as the world around me went black and I fell into unconsciousness.


End file.
